Tonight at bedtime I was sitting on Jachin’s bed, chatting about the events of the day. Wednesdays are one of my volunteer days, so we talked a little bit about things that went on in the classroom today. Then the conversation turned to puppy love. I asked him who his current crush is. Even in the dark, I could tell that he was a little embarrassed; he whacked me with his pillow.

I’ve noticed, though, that the previous playfulness between he and Rachael has sort of cooled… since she stopped wearing her reindeer antler headband… So I started going through the list of girls in his class. After a few”no’s” I got to Audrey. “No,” he said, “she’s Mikey’s crush.” Mikey is Jachin’s best friend; the only other child I know who shares Jachin’s insane love of Super Mario Bros.

“Mikey likes Audrey?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Then all of the sudden he blurted out, “Mikey and I are going to move to Mexico.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because in Mexico you can get married when you’re 10.”

“You don’t want to get married when you’re 10,” I said.

“Sure I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why do you want to get married when you’re 10? How will you get a job and support your family?”

“Oh, easy,” he said, matter of factly. “In Mexico you can get a job when you’re, like, 4.”

I thought of my sweet son, standing along a chicken filled street next to his ten year old wife, selling Chicklets, and I shivered a little.

While I’m happy that my son doesn’t seem to have any sort of commitment phobias, I told him to tell me before he and Mikey move to Mexico… so that I can ground him from leaving the house and the country.

Most of you with children have probably heard of — or even practice — the Love and Logic method of parenting. It’s a method that teaches parents to respond to undesirable behavior with a calm and rational head. The idea is to allow your children to make mistakes, and then allow them to also discover the natural consequences to their actions. It all sounds fine and good, and it’s possible that it even works many times. But I’m currently at a stand still with my 8 year old over a certain issue, and there doesn’t seem to be enough love or logic to solve it.

This is a conversation that took place a couple of months ago, on a cold, snowy afternoon:

Jachin (walking through the front door after school, shivering, his coat shoved into his backpack): Man, it’s freezing outside!

Me: Yeah, I know. It’s winter. Why is your coat stuffed into your backpack instead of being on your body?

Jachin: Why didn’t you pick me up? Did you want me to freeze to death?

Me: You would have been fine if you would have worn a coat over your short sleeved shirt.

Jachin: I wouldn’t have to wear a stupid coat if you would just pick me up from school.

At this point, I’m thinking that eventually, after walking home a couple of times without a coat on, the whole “logic” thing will illuminate my sweet boy’s mind, and he will wear the stinkin’ coat. If the choice is for one to walk home in the winter without a coat, the natural consequence would be for one to freeze one’s butt off.

But this has gone on all winter. For months. I don’t know why I bought the stupid coat. On the very coldest of days, he will put the hood part of the coat over his head, and then leave the rest of the coat dangling off the back of him like a cape. His arms are always the appendages that take the brunt of the nasty weather. When I asked him why in the world would he go to the effort of putting the hood on, but then not put his arms in the sleeves he actually said to me “Men don’t wear coats.” First I pointed out that at 8 years old he is not a man, and then pointed out that his dad — whose age does indeed qualify him as a man — has more than one coat and wears them when it’s frickin freezing. But this seemingly flawless logic did nothing to sway him, either.

And so the cycle continues. He comes through the door in the afternoon with blue arms and gives me the old “Why didn’t you pick me up from school?” And I respond with the whole “I’m giving your coat to orphans since you don’t wear it”.

The other day I came across a picture that shed some light on my current dilemma:

This is Zoe at about 18 months of age (I know, it’s hard to recognize her without the hair), skimming through the Love and Logic book. This is when it hits me that the kids are already on to me! They know my plan. They’ve thought through my method, and they’ve been one step ahead of me the entire time… just waiting for me to give in. Waiting for crazy mom to crack!

So my resolve grew stronger; I would stick true to my course! I would not give in, or pick up my freezing child from school! And the impasse continues…

And Jachin still apparently lacks the logic to wear his coat, and I — obviously — still lack the sufficient love for Jachin to pick him up from school. He is not so smart, and I’m a heartless wench. And for this knowledge, I paid $19.99 for the hard copy.

Yay for Love and Logic!

Bad Mom put up this fun Movie Quiz, and I — being the big, fat, follower that I am — totally copied it. Well, I mean, not word for word, or using the same movies, because that would be dumb and not fun. You: Play along!! The rules are as follows:

For the blogger:

• Pick fifteen of your favorite movies.
• Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
• Post them on your blog for everyone to guess.
• Fill in the film title once it’s guessed, along with the name of the smarty-pants guesser.

This part is for the reader (y’know, you):

• No Googling or using IMDB search functions. No cheaters, please.
• Leave your answer(s) in the comments.

Keep your hands and legs inside the blog at all times. Here we go:

1) Ok. Orphans! Listen to Ignacio. I know it is fun to wrestle. A nice piledrive to the face… or a punch to the face… but you cannot do it. Because, it is in the Bible not to wrestle your neighbour (Nacho Libre, by Stu)
2) You should’ve gone to China, you know, ’cause I hear they give away babies like free iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events. (Juno, by Stu… again)

3) Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it. (Waitress, by my bff Diana)

4) You know my girlfriend is dead. She fell off a cliff and died on impact.  (Happy Gilmore, yay Bill! I was starting to think no one would get it…)

5) Before Judith, our fun level was at an all time high. Ninety-three, it is now an eight. (Saving Silverman, by Leslie)

6) Get off of me, don’t you touch me. It is over between us, Kate. Nobody makes me bleed my own blood - nobody! (Dodgeball, by Leslie)

7) Bastian made many other wishes, and had many other amazing adventures - before he finally returned to the ordinary world. But that’s… another story. (The Never Ending Story, by Nerak)

8 ) Assimilate this! (Star Trek: First Contact, by Nerak… she didn’t get the exact title, but I don’t think anyone else would.)

9) You hear that Mr. Anderson?… That is the sound of inevitability… It is the sound of your death… Goodbye, Mr. Anderson… (The Matrix, by Stu)

10) Look at you, you have a baby… In a bar. (Sweet Home Alabama, by Nerak)

11) Oh, nonsense. This is nothing compared to the twig of ‘93. (A Bug’s Life, by Diana)

12) You all wanna be looking very intently at your own belly buttons. I see a head start to rise, violence is going to ensue. Probably guessed we mean to be thieving here but what we’re after is not yours. So, let’s have no undue fussing. (Serenity… my favorite movie… by Diana)

13) Witness Exhibit A: My 8th Grade science project - a working rain forest. Mike Dexter threw it out a third story window. It rains here no more. Witness Exhibit B: An eye patch I wore for a month after Mike beaned me with a raisin in home ec. My parents took me to a 3D film. I saw no third dimension. And of course, how could I forget the pudding incident? I know no one else has. Well gentlemen, tonight, Mike Dexter will know humiliation. Tonight Mike Dexter will know ridicule. Tonight is the night we fight back. Tonight is our independence night.

14) I flunk English, I’m outta here. I gotta get a job, and you know what that means. That’s right, they start me at the drive-up window and I gradually work my way up from shakes to burgers, and then one day my lucky break comes: the french fry guy dies and they offer me the job. But the day I’m supposed to start some men come by in a black Lincoln Continental and tell me I can make a quick 300 just for driving a van back from Mexico. When I get out of jail I’m 36 years old. Living in a flop house. No job. No home. No upward mobility. Very few teeth. And then one day they find me, face down in the gutter, clutching a bottle of paint thinner and why? Because you wouldn’t help me in English. (The Sure Thing, by Sam)

15) The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe you’re either (a) not at home, (b) home but don’t want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy. If it’s either (a) or (c), please call me back. (When Harry Met Sally, by Stu… who apparently likes many of the same movies I do.)

Though there are movies from a few genres, most are comedies… since I do love the zippy one-liners.

Good luck, and guess away!

You may recall me mentioning something about my husband getting a new job a few weeks ago. What I haven’t mentioned yet is that they are working him like a dog. (Albeit a decently-paid dog.) All last week, my husband stayed late. Today (Saturday) he decided that he needed to go in again. So he ran to work. Like, with his feet. He called me — panting — when he got there to tell me that he’d forgotten his badge to get into the building. So I packed up the kids and took him his badge and some non-sweaty clothes to change into.

Upon entering the building, the kids were enthralled. We happened to come in through the break room door. Well, one of the break rooms. The building has several of them. And they’re pimped out. Omniture is one of those places that thinks that if they pay you well, and feed you, and give you cool places to hang out, you will live there and never go home. And it sort of works, because Jon really likes it there.

I took some stealthy video of the break area and the “Guitar Hero Loft”. Check it out.

You’ll notice that I repeatedly voice my concerns over the amount of “productive work being done each day”. It would seem that this really bothers me, even though I don’t really think it does. I think it’s kind of hilarious that Jon came home the other night and told me that he is now officially the Guitar Hero champion in the office. So amid all of the “productive work” being done, there is also a bracket system scribbled on a white board in someone’s cubical with my husband listed as the reigning champion; the man to beat.

There’s also a network gaming room decorated like a dungeon with torches and a large gun turret thingy mounted to the ceiling. I didn’t get to video that today. I was kind of afraid of getting shut in behind the huge dungeon door.

Oh, and the big Omniture Conference next month is going to be sweet. Lance Armstrong is one of the keynote speakers, and Flight of the Conchords is the entertainment act. Tickets are $3000 a pair, and there’s no real reason for the company to send Jon, so the chances of me being able to go aren’t looking good. *sigh* Even though I’m the mother flippin’…

For the company, it’s all about whatever keeps employees motivated, I guess. If they ever put in employee spa services with pedicures and massages, I’m applying to Omniture as a software engineer as well.

Today the kids played pool in the break room at Jon’s office:

Jachin’s a natural. Luckily it’s difficult for an 8 year old to find billiard “action” in Orem, Utah.

When I start thinking I’m bored with the internet (we’ve all been there… thinking we’ve seen and done everything the internet has to offer), I like to go to www.apple.com/trailers. I get giddy watching trailers for upcoming movies, and this site has high-quality viewings (not the crap you find on YouTube).

Nosing around this evening (Jon is out laser-tagging without me… *sigh*) I found several movies that I’m freakin’ excited for. A short list:

First on the list is a brilliant looking movie called Son of Rambow. After watching the trailer, I wished so badly that I could immediately watch this movie. Like, right now. Like, ten minutes ago. How cute are those kids? How much do you wish that you’d had a friend like that when you were ten or twelve, running around filming action movies. *sigh* Even just the trailer makes me want to be a creative, care-free, mischievous kid again. Can’t wait…

For the handful of you out there who don’t know that I’m a Trekkie, well… now you do. I’m both excited and apprehensive about the new Star Trek movie. I hope, hope, hope that it’s good. Since all of the original Star Trek actors are ancient (even the TNG-ers are getting up there in age), the new movie is a prequel. Kirk and Spock at Starfleet Academy. Fraternity house of the future. My fingers are really crossed for this one. I’m sending happy feelings its way.

Now we come to the eye candy. Just when the world finally simmered down and stopped guffawing at In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, we are enticed with the next pec-tastic installment of Jason Statham’s hotness: The Bank Job. Dare I say it, people… this movie looks… well, good. And not just “good” like staring at Jason Statham’s fantastic martial arts moves, buff muscles, and scruffy-licious 5 o’clock shadow kind of “good“, I mean good, good. Decent acting. Non-nauseating dialog. Plausible plot (in fact, it’s based on a true story). All of my sultry good energy is being directed toward this one. My poor, sweet Jason is long over-due for a good movie.

Last but certainly not least is the newest installment of M. Night Shyamalan genius: The Happening. I am a Shyamalan fan. The Sixth Sense? Genius. Signs? Creeeepy. The Village? Spooky with a good twister ending. Lady in the Water? Ok, wow… I’ll admit it… it was a frickin stinker. Whatever fantastic, over-my-head ka-pow smartness he was trying to convey just didn’t work out. I think it was supposed to maybe be a metaphor of something… but who really knows? Only M. Night himself. At the end of the movie my husband and I both gave each other the WTF? look and I wished for those lost hours of my life back.  So I’m hoping this is the comeback I’ve been waiting for. Give me something good man… I’m ready.

There are, of course, others. This is a short list. What are you looking forward to seeing??

Mother Nature heard our pleas… enough, enough, please.

Enough of the powdery white crap, already. Enough of the freezing temps.

This is Zoe on her bike today(notice the snow-free sidewalks!) yelling “Uncle!”

And I think that Mother Nature may have heard, because the sun started shining and the snow began melting…

And our once proud igloo dribbled down to something resembling Utah’s Delicate Arch…

I don’t want to jinx anything, but please, oh please, let this weather stick.

Mama misses her sun tan…

…in human boy form.

Jachin failed to finish his homework from last week (even with a free day yesterday to finish). I told him that if it was not turned in today, on time, that he would be grounded from video games for several days. So he finished it on the way to school in a flurry of pencil scratching… and on a Cheez-It box. And when I gave him the old “Smile for mommy’s blog readers!” he gave me this look:

Did you catch that? Look again…

He’s a charmer, that one. I actually get this look a lot. From both of my kids. And occasionally my husband. And strangers.
Incidentally, he finished his homework packet before we got to school, and then promptly left it on the backseat when he got out of the car to enter the school. I’m still trying to figure out if that means a grounding or not…

From the time I was 4 or 5, I always wanted to be a dancer. For a few months, my parents put me in ballet classes at the local community college. I was a natural (or so I’d like to remember). For a reason I can’t remember (but it was probably lack of money) my parents didn’t take me anymore. I was on my own as far as learning sweet moves. I turned to Mtv for all of my dancing knowledge. I wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer. I wanted to be on Fame.

A few years later, after moving to another town, I got a new next door neighbor and best friend, Susie. She shared both my love of dancing and my lack of formal training. We talked our parents into buying us matching leg warmers (pastel stripes) and the work began. Hours and hours of choreographing and rehearsing in my basement. For weeks, people. We poured our hearts and souls into our routine. The song was “All I Need is a Miracle” by Mike and the Mechanics, and, indeed, what we needed was a real miracle… because our goal was to take our routine on Star Search. And win it, baby. We incorporated a lot of running in place, and floor rolls, and pointing at imaginary audience members, a la Flashdance (and yeah, I’d seen Flashdance, and no, I don’t know why my mother allowed me to watch such a sassy show at such a young age). After polishing our routine, we finally called our parents to the basement and allowed them to see what we’d been working so hard on. We turned the music up loud and danced our butts off. I thought for sure I really nailed it with the jump-off-the-couch-with-a-spin-and-land-on-my-knees-on-a-pillow move. I thought they were really impressed. But in the end, what they told us was that we needed to practice more before any calls would be made to the Star Search people. We were kinda crushed. But we kept dancing.
By middle school I had discovered a goddess named Paula Abdul. Her music was great, and her dancing was even better. I thought her CD “Shut Up and Dance” was brilliantly titled. I wished more people in the world would just shut up and dance. Except for me. I was allowed to talk while I danced. I bought Paula’s “behind the scenes” video cassette that chronicled her years from Laker Girl to Pop Sensation. I memorized it. I giggle along with her as she told the story of how she passed off her mom as her agent when the music industry came calling because she didn’t have a real agent. “Just tell them you’re my agent. I don’t know, tell them anything.” Haha, oh Paula, I would have done the same thing, you clever minx. I danced in front of any mirror I could find. Actually, I danced in front of anything that had any sort of reflective properties whatsoever; store windows, car door panels… At school dances, I danced in a circle of kids, pantomiming the choreography from Paula’s music videos. (Straight up!)

By high school I realized that there were girls who were better dancers than me. Girls whose parents kept them in dancing lessons. Girls who had seen and worked with real choreographers. As much as I still loved to dance, I wasn’t as confident as I once was. I found cheerleading and that gave me a little bit of dancing and performing, but it wasn’t exactly what I loved. I practiced routines to Janet and Paperboy in my bedroom. But only in my bedroom.

When I was 20, I had moved to Utah. I heard about the open call for dancers to audition for the Utah Jazz dancers. I totally had to do it. I psyched myself into going. The guy I was dating at the time offered to drive me over to the Delta Center the morning of auditions. Right before we left, one of his friends said to me “you do realize that all the girls who will get it will be girls who know Larry Miller (the owner of the Jazz).” That gave me a psychological kick in the gut. By the time we got to the Delta Center, I was deflated. When I saw the hundreds of girls walking into the Delta Center for auditions, I wanted to cry. I chickened out. I tell myself it never would have happened anyway, but honestly… who knows?

A few years ago I took a hip-hop class at the Gold’s Gym where I had a membership. I was a good 10 years older than anyone else in the class, including the instructor. The first night of class he explained that he was a dance teacher at BYU, and would there be anyone in the class taking dance at BYU this semester? Everyone’s hands up went up except for mine. Dude, I was old, and clearly not a dancer. But that was okay. I was just there for fun. I had given up on the dream of being a real dancer. I didn’t have to impress anyone, and I certainly wasn’t being graded. So he started teaching us a routine to a nice Craig David song. (I’m fairly sure I was the only person in the room who knew that it was actually a Sting song… and I was definitely the only one in the room to think that Sting is hella-hotter than Craig David.) I was also the suckiest dancer in the room. Hands down. By the end of class, the instructor was giggling at me and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and giving me the condescending: oh, I love it, you’re great.

And with that, any wisp of the smallest hope of me being a dancer went out the window. He told me that the dirty dancing class might be a better fit for me. That’s the class lots of chubby moms take to feel sexy, and slowly melt away the post-baby pounds. Grinding hips, fist pumps in the air, zero talent needed.

Thanks, junior. You punk ass. (I quit Gold’s, also…but not just for that reason.)

Now I only dance if I am alone or with Zoe. Because Zoe doesn’t care that I dance in a stupid fashion. I still have a few good years before I become lame and dorky in her eyes. A few things still really get me going, though. One is the release of awesome movies like Step Up, (which I watched with Jon the other night and he said and I quote “How much longer is this stupid movie??”) and Step Up 2 the Streets which I’m dying to see. In my mind I am dancing with Channing Tatum (the cutie pants), and I rock it. Suspension of reality is good sometimes. And who knows… maybe in my next life I’ll be married to Channing Tatum and we’ll own a break dance studio and I’ll give lessons to the punk brat from Gold’s Gym, berating him all the while on his lack of skillz.

Shut up and let a girl dream…

Better yet, just shut up and dance.

This meme has been going around blogs as well as MySpace. (Don’t ask me how I know what goes on around MySpace. My official stance on MySpace is that it sux0rz.)

It was fun to do. And you should do it to. The rules are simple:

1) read the question

2) Go to photobucket.com

3) type in your answer to the question in the “search” box

4) pick a picture from the first search results page

Give ‘er a try. Here’s mine:

What is your name?

 What is your favorite place?

What is your favorite movie?

What are you afraid of?

What is your favorite TV show?

Who is your celebrity crush?

What is your favorite color?

What is your last name? 

Who do you love?

(What? I totally love this family…)

What is one word to describe yourself? 

(no, I didn’t type in “jumpy”…)